Sensitivity

Palakkad, Kerala, India On 22nd December, 2005.

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

I am shell-shocked by the sitting. I hope you all felt what I felt and if you felt, that means you are on the right road to progress in spiritual life. It is necessary to develop sensitivity to sittings. You know we are all very sensitive to outside things. As we go by bus or car, we notice shops; we notice people. But inside we don't know anything. We have a sitting which I consider perhaps the best, and most people say, “Yes, yes…” “How did you feel?” “Okay,” whereas a sensitive person can probably write a report of three pages.

How to develop that sensitivity? The first thing is to turn your senses inward. If you have seen Babuji's face, you see one eye is always here [pointing towards the heart], drooping to the heart. When I asked him why it is like that, he said, "One eye for the [outer] world and one eye for the inner world." This is observing this; this is observing that. So then, all that goes on outside we know, and all that goes on inside also we should know. And progressively this [inner] becomes more and more important; this [outer] becomes less and less important.

Any abhyasi who has been in the Mission for a long time and has made even the minimum progress every year can testify that his personal interests in the outer world have diminished, have waned, whereas his interest in being alone, meditating, things like that, they have increased. People in other parts of the world get frightened, especially the people from the Occident, because they think the outer world must always have a grip on their attention. And the moment that starts to reduce, they think they are losing something. They say, "Oh, I have lost interest in tennis. I used to play so well. I have lost interest in meat-eating, drinking, and my friends are cursing me. They say, ‘You don't come any more to the club or this or that’." So they go back to the world from which they came. And it is not surprising that many of them leave also, because they think life is for enjoyment, for pleasure, and therefore when their sensory pleasures lose meaning, they think they are going to lose something in life.

Of course it is true that when you have something to choose, you have to choose one and leave the other. Everybody knows—you go shopping, you choose this and not that. You buy a car—you choose one car and not the other. It’s not a loss. You have chosen what you need, what you want, what you like, and in your judgement, what you are paying the best for. Children go to a shop and they want a sweet. They know what to choose. Of course when they are very young, they want everything. A little older, they want some of them. When they are almost youth they know exactly what they want. So even children grow up, you see.

But adults don’t seem to grow up—they grow out; they don't grow up, if you understand what I mean. More and more of everything—they must have more power, more money, more pleasures, more holidays. So they waste their life. And when everything is dead (I mean the senses), when they can no longer indulge in the sensory pleasures of life, then they come limping into the spiritual world, and they expect to make progress. It’s like my trying to run the Olympics. I can hardly walk! Suppose I try to run, what will happen? There’ll be disaster, you see. I will fall, break my leg. That will be a great blessing, because I could also break my head. So everything has a time in which we must attempt, in which we must succeed, and in which we must go on and on.

You see people who play tennis—one Wimbledon is not enough. They have to win a second Wimbledon championship, a sixth! They do it until they can do it no more. Of course, they have the attraction of millions of dollars of prize money. But when you pay for your pleasures, what do you get? You get sickness, you get diabetes, you get I don't know what all, you see. So this sensitivity we are developing in the outer world robs our sensitivity in the inner world.

You know Kerala produces a lot of tea. They have tea tasters. They have to wash their mouth before they have their next sip of tea, and spit it out. They don't take it in. If they take it in, their tasting capacity is gone. Similarly with wine tasting in France or wherever they produce. They smell it, they take a sip, and throw it out. And they insure their capacity for millions of dollars. Perfumery industry—sniff. I know some of the top people who work in perfumery blending. They have insured their nose for five million dollars, ten million dollars to make it more and more sensitive, to protect it. Because if they get a cold or if their olfactory system is destroyed, they can no more smell, and now they get millions. And if this is lost [pointing to the nose, i.e., sense of smell], they lose. They protect their sensitivity with so much insurance and care. Vocal musicians in India always drink warm water, they don't drink cold water; you know it. Why? Because, if they catch a cold, they cannot sing. If it’s a sore throat, they cannot sing. It’s a capacity which is protected, at the cost of the love for refrigerated water which has caught humanity today—cold, colder, coldest.

So unless it brings money to us, we don't care about what we are doing and what we are protecting. Here, we have to protect and cherish the heart. Am I conscious of what is going on here? No—most of us don't know. Most of us don't know whether they have a heart or not. We know there is a pump which is pushing blood out. What does it do? Only after we have a heart attack, we go to people and we ask, “What is a heart attack? Why does it happen? Oh, I wish I had not done that, I wish I had not done this.” But the crux of the thing, you see: you rarely see a Wimbledon champion also playing test cricket, I don't think I have seen anybody, and nor is he a golfer.

Stick to one thing. Without one, you cannot concentrate; you cannot develop. In the morning, you have cricket practice; at eleven o'clock you go to play golf; three o'clock you are playing tennis; and four-thirty you are playing billiards in the club with a glass of beer in your hand. Which will you play? It’s a rich man's pampered existence. And all his friends will praise him, "Oh, wow! What a tennis shot that was!" So when you are living for the sake of the praise of others, as my Master used to say, you are the biggest fool. Are you able to look yourself in the mirror? That is the test of character, of integrity. But we don't want. We want people from outside to praise us. Therefore we are dressing up, we are shaving, you know, we are going with friends and ruining our lives, wasting our money, and most important, wasting time in useless, fruitless enterprises, pursuits.

You see, if a camera has the lens always open, what will happen to it? Will it take any photographs? To protect the film inside, the shutter must always be closed. It must be opened only when you want to take a picture. But our camera is always open, blindingly open. So much so, that the outside world has overpowered most of humanity—Aakarshana shakti, kavarchi [power of attraction]. We are responsive only to the outer world.

God—from the inner world—we don't listen to. When do we listen? Unfortunately, when there is a crisis in our lives: sudden crisis, sudden threat of death, your own or some loved one, big loss, some attack on your fame and name. Then suddenly, the senses shut up and you are thrown in upon yourself. Then you hear a faint voice from here [points to the heart]. Then you go running after, first, astrologers, priests. Guruvayoor polaamaa?Chottanikkara polaamaa? [Shall we go to this or that temple?] And when all that fails, you come to our prefects. “I don't know what to do, sir. Now I have only one recourse—God.” And then we ask him, you know, "Did you think that you had other recourses before? Did you not know that God was the only recourse from day one to day end—last one?” Or you had to be, you know, like Samson, whose head was shaved by Delilah. Only then he woke up to the fact that his strength had gone. Then he prays. So prayer is the last refuge of fools and failures. We should pray from the beginning, when we are happy, when we are healthy, when we are successful, just to balance the outer success and money and what not. You must sit in meditation every day so that you go inside and see that all that is worth nothing.

Then you become like Emperor Janaka, or all these big rishis, you know, who forget the outer world. It goes on whether you are there or not. We have seen great people coming and going. We have seen great tyrants coming and going. Plato—yes, he was there. Gandhi—yes, he was there. Napoleon was there. Hitler was there. What happened to the world? It goes on its way. Communism has gone, but communism is still here, because we hold onto it—particularly applying to this state. You understand? Babuji said, “Communism will die in the land of its own birth.” If you have read the book, you will know. There it has died, but in other countries it is still living because we are putting ghee [fuel] in a dead homakundam [sacrificial fire], and imagining that the fire is still burning. We are so loose in our sensitivity, we have lost.

Like children, you know—the story of the Emperor's new clothes. Everybody who was adult must say, "Yes, yes. What a wonderful robe he has got,"—millions of rupees, dollars, whatever. One little child tells his mother, "But, Mummy, he is naked." We are afraid to see the truth. We are afraid of seeing the truth outside; we are terrified of seeing the truth inside. So, we don't want to look inside. I know people who meditate—first time. In five minutes they start blabbering, because this here [pointing to the heart], it is like a badly maintained, shall we say, sewage system. As long as the cover is there on the manhole, everything is nice. Open it, and you can die. Foul things come out, foul smells, cockroaches, who knows what, because it has never been cleaned.

So we are literally afraid of meditation. What will I see? If you say you will see yourself, they will laugh and say, "But I do that in the mirror every morning." But that is not yourself; that is a mask. Nor is it real, because you don't see your face at all. You see the right ear as the left ear and the left ear as the right ear. That is why most people are very surprised when they see a photograph of themselves for the first time. They say, “Is this how I look?” And it is much more shocking when you look inside. So we have to do it slowly. We take the help of cleaning. Clean a little before you open the manhole, otherwise you will not be able to suffer it.

So this sensitivity, you see, is a terrible thing. Because as you become more and more sensitive, you become sensitive to poor people on the streets, sick people on the streets, beggars on the streets. Your heart begins to flutter, because they are, after all, your brothers and sisters. Once, you were able to go in your car without noticing anything, and if somebody said, “Look at that poor fellow dying there,” you said, "His samskara! What can we do?"

We are heartless, and our so-called strength of mind is in our heartlessness, because we have closed all avenues to it. Therefore we can ignore suffering, we can ignore poverty, we can ignore death, until it comes to us. This is the heartlessness, the cruelty of the modern individual: educated individual or uneducated it does not matter. Then we make excuses: “Oh, if I give to him, there will be a hundred beggars behind him.” “Yes, but why don't you give to at least one and not the others?” “No, no, sir. My office takes care of charities. We routinely give charity.”

So when your problem comes and you are facing death, and God says, "I am routinely kind and loving—you don't worry about yourself," you will say, “Devuda [O God], what is this? I come to you and you are telling me your office will look after me.” "Yes but, my son, you have been saying this all your life. Beggars come to your house and you tell them to go away, go to your office. In the office there is a watchman with a stick. Have you not done it?” "Yes, my lord, but that was in the days of my foolishness, my ignorance." "Aha! So you admit that you are foolish, you are ignorant. Admit something more—that you are heartless, you are cruel. You did it, knowingly, deliberately. Now what should I do with you?" What will you answer?

So we are afraid of sensitivity. We would prefer to die insensitive. And modern medicine, you know, all these anaesthetics, pain killers, they allow us to die painlessly, whereas real death should be painful. So that at least in the last minutes (like you have seen in the pictures of Kamsa and Ravana, you know, when they are going to be finished) they see the Lord—not Rama, nor Krishna—they see the Lord Narayana. Nowadays we don't have that opportunity. Painless childbirth to painless death of the old man. “Let the whole world suffer—it does not matter; I must be painless!” So sensitivity is not a good thing for those people who want to live like that. They cannot be sensitive, even to the physical life. How will they be sensitive to the suffering of others? And without sensitivity to the suffering of others, there is no spiritual growth.

Humanity begins only when you see others: how they are living, what they are doing, what is their pain. First you see with your eyes, hear with your ears. Later, you sense—you sit before people and you sense that somebody is in pain; somebody is hungry. I remember in Shahjahanpur, you know, once I was in bed at 10:30 without food and Babuji woke me up and gave me food. He said, “You have gone to bed hungry.” I said, "How did you know?" He said, "I felt it." I was in one room and he was somewhere else in the house. Another time, I had nothing to cover myself with. It was in the dead of winter, with a temperature about one degree, cold stone floor. I put some newspaper on it. You know that is the traditional way the beggars put off the cold in London. They would stuff newspapers inside their jackets; it’s a good insulation. So I spread two newspapers below and two on my top, and I was happy. Master came when I was a little asleep and covered me with a blanket. Next morning I asked him, "How did you know?" He said, "I sensed it."

What do we sense?—nothing about others; everything about ourselves. “Oh, this place stinks.” “Yes, but what about the spiritual atmosphere? Have you not seen?” “Oh but, Chariji, how can I have the spiritual atmosphere when there are people here who don't bathe, too much perfume on the ladies. I'm overpowered, you see.” This is the modern training for sensitivity.

I was once travelling in Germany in a beautiful BMW car, most expensive. And there was this smell of cow dung inside. I told my friend who was driving, "How do you get cow dung smell?" He said "There is no cow dung in Germany." I said, "Surely, but the smell is there." Then he said, "Oh, you mean that spray? What they do is they dissolve the cow dung in big tanks and spray the water in these rotary sprayers over the fields." Of course it will smell! Whether cow dung is in liquid form or solid form, it will smell, no? So he immediately shut off the air supply which comes into the car. But still cow dung is cow dung. It is all powerful—it must smell.

We know this, so we tolerate it. Our fields are green; we grow good crops. But they want everything insulated. That is why there is a lot of perfumery industry in Europe. Nothing must be touched by hand. I mean billions of people eat with their hands. We are not dying off like flies or mosquitoes. There they depend on their cutlery, you know, forks and spoons. And if your fork and spoon is cleaner than your hand, God bless you! Isn't it? So you see they are doing everything to destroy sensitivity. We are following the Western culture more and more: more and more insulation, more and more isolation. And how will you develop sensitivity if that is your attitude to life, even the physical, open life? Therefore we progress in acquiring more and more things which will insulate and isolate us more and more from public life. Bedroom must be closed. Bedroom must have curtains. Light must not come inside; sound, not at all. No flies, no mosquitoes, and we are sleepless! [chuckles]

Why are we sleepless? Because however rich the man of today, when he was young, he was not very rich. Achchan [Father] was a farmer or a carpenter. And we did live with mosquitoes and flies, happily, merrily. That memory is with us—it’s a racial memory that we have, and it is common to all people. England was no better. France was no better. They had mosquitoes and flies too—well, they still have them. So the more you isolate yourself from life, the more you are isolating yourself from your inner self, and you are struggling between the two, not knowing where to go. So always the outer world has to be given up progressively. You don't have to give it up—if you look to the inner world, this will fall off by itself. If I get into a train in Coimbatore to go to Bombay, I don't give up Coimbatore—the train does it for me. So, I don't sit and weep, "Oh, I have lost Coimbatore. I have lost Coimbatore," isn't it?

You have to go away on a business tour for three months. Your wife normally will not let you go, but when it is money she permits you to go. “Three months? Yes. Of course. I will miss you, honey." Of course, we will miss. So for money we will do everything. Where there is no money, we will do nothing. In spirituality there is no money, there is no power, there is no guarantee of prosperity; there is not even health which is assured. Spirituality is assured.

‘Spirituality is assured’ means it does have something with it, which we don't normally explain. Our life gets regulated better and better. It becomes more and more normal, but it does not promise superlative health or happiness or wealth or anything like that—normalisation of a human being first.

So Babuji said, we become human first, with human qualities of compassion, love, trust, faith, mercy, and then only we start developing towards what we call divinization. Of course, what Babuji said automatically implies that few of us, if any at all, are really human. Most of us are machines, we live like machines. You know children are tortured by potty training, as they call it in the West. The bowels must move at six in the morning. It has no business not to move, and the child is tortured. It develops gastric problems; later on in life they become gastric ulcers. One day it becomes cancer of the colon. Potty training! Animals have no potty training and we don't try to train them also.

There is a cycle in nature, you know, which, if you upset, you suffer. So you find people running at odd hours to the toilets. Because however much you may straighten a dog's tail, as the old proverb says, it will not remain straight when you let it go. So, we suffer with gas problems, constipation, diarrhoea, whatever it is, because we are trying to train an inner system which cannot be trained; it is a natural system. Something goes in, something comes out and there is a time lag between the two. Isn't it? But then we go to the doctor and he says, "What is your toilet training?" "Sir, I have to do it because I have to go to work."

So the modern way of education, of working—fixed hours from this time to this time—implies so many things against our inner nature, against our health. It is not surprising that there are more and more hospitals, more and more diseases. When I was a boy there was only heart attack. Nobody knew what was a heart attack. If a man suddenly died, they said his heart stopped, that's all. Now you have twenty-five different heart diseases and a heart transplant, if you can afford it and it is successful.

One day they will transplant you—that is what nature does, you see. When you have proved useless for nature's purpose, it removes you and puts another individual there. We are not aware of that. So this is another cause for fear, especially in the Occident—that this is annihilation of the self. “I don't exist any more!” Yes, but when you don't do spirituality and you die, you exist. According to some religions, you do, you know. You are patiently waiting for the day of judgement when the angel will blow its horn, and all the bodies will come alive again. I have always wondered why God wants the soul in a body to be judged. And then judged.

You know, I once had to travel from Trivandrum to Madras via Madurai, and there was a priest in the next seat. I was reading Patanjali's Yoga Sutras. And he kept looking like this curiously. When we left Madurai, he could not any more tolerate what I was doing. He said, "You look well educated," and I said, "I beg your pardon?" And he said, "No, no. You look well educated." And I said, "Thank you, father, but it is a compliment that I don't deserve." He says, "You must be prosperous because you are travelling by air." And I said, "No, my company pays for it." He said, "Whatever it may be, you look educated, and you are an air traveller, so you must be above the average. And you are reading this rubbish?" Patanjali's Yoga Sutras was for him rubbish! So, I asked him "Father, what do you suggest I read?" He said "The Bible, my son. Christianity has all the answers.” I said "Oh, it does?” I said, "What happens in Christianity after death?" He said, "What do you mean after death?" I said, "Yes, after death." He said, "Well, after death there is nothing." I said "Surely Father, in your kingdom of God, with the mercy of Christ, there must be someplace to go to. Isn’t it?" He says, "Yes, my dear son. So you have picked up something of Christianity. After death, when we are buried, we remain until the day of judgement.” I said "Who judges?" He said, "God." I asked, "So what happens during judgement?" He said, "Either some go to heaven or some go to hell." I said, "After that, what?" “After that what? What do you mean?" I said, "Father, if somebody goes to heaven, surely it’s for a limited time, and if somebody goes to hell then that also must be for a limited time." He said, "Oh, there can be eternal hell and damnation." I said, "Okay. We will forget those souls. What happens to the rest?" He then got angry, you know, and said, "Oh, you are being deliberately argumentative!" [Chuckles] No answer. A Father, you know, and he must be an advanced preacher because he was also travelling by air. He was not walking with a Bible in his hand. So much for this religion, you see. And they are afraid of death. They are afraid of judgement, you know. What will God say? So all their life they are committing mistakes and praying simultaneously you know—artificial prayers which we don't mean, which does not come from the heart, which come out of fear. “O Lord, forgive me for my sins. Amen!”

I remember when I was in my fourth standard in school in Jabalpur, there was a short quatrain, which said, "My words fly up, my thoughts below, words without thoughts never to heaven go." You understood, no? “My words fly up”—prayer. “My thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go.” It is this [pointing to heart] which has to go there. The heart must go up in prayer, not the mouth: the mouth, which is stinking, has eaten flesh, which it is forbidden to do. So you see, again lack of sensitivity. We don't even know what is prayer, how to pray.

If at all you are a Christian, you must first ask your priest, "Father, how should I pray?" He will be in trouble. He will say, "My son, go on your knees before God and beg His forgiveness." “Yes, Father, but how?” And you have to beg for forgiveness day after day after day. Does God not hear my prayers that I have to pray every day? Three times in another religion; five times in some. "No, no, my son, but we may have committed so many sins of which we are not aware." "Oh, come on, Father! What I am aware of, that is enough. You want me to pray for sins I have never known that I have committed?” You see the tragedy of prayer in religion.

In spirituality we don't pray for ourselves. Babuji said, "Prayer is begging," which is true, you see. Everybody knows. We have all prayed for health. “Let my wife not be angry as I'm going home drunk today. Lord, let her be asleep. Let my son not see me in this state. I want him to grow up pure and refined.” “Why are you like this?” God says, “Should you not be an example to your son? Should you not go home sober?” Then you will go home at 6:00. [Now] at 11:30 at night you go home drunk without money in your pocket. “Oh, my Lord, forgive me.” “Yes, my son, I am eternally forgiving, but you are eternally sinning. Where is the end to this?”

This is sensitivity to our own actions, our own thoughts, which make samskaras. Samskaras are not God given—we create them. When we think evil, we create. When we think good also, we create. So Babuji said, “Try to attain the thoughtless state.” It is very easy—you close your eyes and you are out. But you have to put in sufficient practice. To learn to ride a bicycle, you take three, four days, isn't it? You don't get on top of the seat and say, "Ayyoda, Saranam Ayyappa" [O Ayyappa, I surrender to thee] and off you go. No Ayyappa can help you to ride a bicycle unless you fall two, three times, with a friend running behind you. All that, we understand. If I am expecting God to do great things, how can I accept a God who cannot teach me to bicycle without falling, and without the help of a friend? A God who will not help me to get out of the bed by myself, but we expect him to lift me to some heaven, which is God knows where. “You know, God only does great things.” “Oh, only great things? Such as what?” “He helps me to hide the stinking smell of beer when I come home drunk.” “Oh, wonderful God, no?” “Sir, that is why I go to the temple at the corner of my house. Not when I go to drink, but when I come back drunk.”

So you see, we are killing our sensitivity by drinking, by overeating, by indulgence, having too much money, thinking always of money—six bank accounts with six passbooks which you read every day. In the old days they used to dig it out of the ground and count it. Today you have figures in your computer also—you can access your account, look at the [figures]—“Aha!” and go to bed happy. Next morning, there is a market crash; you cannot even access the computer. Heart attack! It had a heart attack first; you are going to have the heart attack next. And the widow is weeping. Over-sensitivity here [pointing outwards] and nothing here [pointing within]. A bird like this with wings fluttering—how will it go?

You know the great Jataayu—great bird according to Ramayana. With one slash of his sword Ravana cut off one wing and Jataayu was on the ground. Two wings, balance; two wings, you can fly. One wing, not possible at all, even if you are Jataayu or even if you are Garuda himself [the vehicle of Lord Vishnu]. So we need the outer world; we need the inner world. Balance is what we strive for. Now, our total balance is on one side. It’s like a see-saw for children, with one child sitting on one side and expecting it to rock. You need another child there.

So for me to be happy, I need another human being, at least, to be happy with me. If you are selfish and say, "You will be the servant and I'll be the Master"—no happiness! So sensitivity in the outer world—as much as is necessary. Once a child puts its hand on a burning stove, it doesn't put again. It does not say again every day, you know, "Let me test my sensitivity." Does it? Children are wiser than adults. That is why it is called the age of innocence, where children grow naturally, normally, where their inner strength flowers by itself, because it has not yet been inhibited by education, by the pulls of society and parents, by the pulls of education, and the lures of sensory pleasures, money, power, fame.

Every mother says, “You must be like your father.” Is it a desirable advice? Is this something we should follow? In most cases, I would say in almost all cases, it is undesirable. Because we don't know what the parents are suffering. “No, no my father is the biggest vakil [lawyer].” Next week he is raided and they find sixty-seven crores in cash, which he has never accounted. Every vakil knows this is the truth. And the bigger and more prominent you are, the more you have.

Doctors—last week doctors in hospitals were raided. “No, no, sir, they save lives.” Whose? Yours or theirs? They save their own first, by making a lot of money. They not only make it from you, they make it from the pharmacies which give you medicine, by referring you there. If you need an MRI, they say, "Go to Arumugam CAT Scan." Because, if he charges you five thousand, twenty-five hundred of it goes to the doctor—they make money from you and through you with all connected enterprises. “But sir, what to do? He is the best doctor in Palakkad. Well, I'll go to Madras." Worse! Here, from four thousand they take two thousand. There, from forty thousand they will take twenty thousand. What is the solution? To try to be healthy, by staying alive healthily—eating correct, drinking correct, and breathing right. You can be rid of most of your illnesses, except what they call karma vyaadhis [fruits of suffering because of karma]. But we must eat what we should not eat; we must drink what we should not drink; and yet, we must be healthy—“Doctor!”

One thousand rupees is the bill for drinking and two thousand rupees a month for doctors; total outflow, three thousand, and deteriorating health. So indulgence contrary to the laws of nature means sickness—temporary at first, permanent later—worse and worse, until it goes to death. Sensitivity to why we should obey rules. “Why should I not?” You will find out. And Kerala is a great state for “Why should I not?” “Irrikkatte, nokatte.” [Let it be. We will see.] See? And then what do we nokatte? [What will we see?] Katte nokkum—yen katte yena noku. “Chirikum. Entha saare, enthu samsaarichu avide. Nokkattennu paranjittille? Nokku. Engudu poyi njan ippam. Avan parayunnu.” Manassilayo? [Only my dead body will look at me, laugh and say, “What, sir? What did you say? Didn’t you say you would see? See? Where did I go now?” Do you understand?]

So, that is the tragedy of life. Wisdom when it cannot be used; consciousness of health when the health is gone; inner spirit awakening when it is too late—until finally some priest has to put into my ear what they call karna mantram [religious instructions whispered into the ear of one who is dying] at the time of death. A few words, so that at least the soul may hear that and make up its mind to lead the next life properly. One life is going; now next life. So, the relevance of spirituality to every personal life, whether you are a Hottentot or a German, or a Japanese, or a Hindu. Human beings are human beings. They are no different anywhere in the world. Colour difference—yes. Difference in technological advancement—yes. But basically we are all the same. We commit the same sins; we enjoy the same things; we seek the same pleasures. Your money may be in dollars, mine may be in rupees, but we are rich in our money. We want more and more of it. The health we destroy is the same whether we are a German or a Hindu, and the way of stopping all this is only one, and that is spirituality.

So you would be well advised to awake, arise and rest not until the goal is achieved. Thank you.